New Releases
THE LIBERTINE Bawdy period sex comedies are nothing new — they’ve been around at least since 1963’s Tom Jones hightailed it back to England with the Best Picture Oscar in hand. At first glance, The Libertine appears to be a modern attempt to jump-start the sub-genre, to wrest the costume epic away from the prim and proper Austen adaptations and steer it back to a sensibility that owes as much to Benny Hill as to any literary tome. But it soon becomes apparent that The Libertine is marching to its own beat: The humor is dipped in poison, and the end result of its sexual revolution isn’t bare arses and jiggling breasts but rather the physical deformities and uncontrollable bowel movements brought on by syphilis. Based on a stage play (and it shows), this tells the story of John Wilmot (Johnny Depp), aka the second Earl of Rochester. At the film’s outset, this 17th century poet, playwright and sex fiend turns to us and insists that we won’t like him, at which point he proceeds to spend the remainder of the running time cruelly berating nearly everyone who enters his atmosphere, even Charles II (John Malkovich). The one exception is the budding stage actress Elizabeth Barry (Samantha Morton), yet she proves to be the one person that a smitten Rochester cannot best. In casting the role of Rochester, the filmmakers had the right idea by turning to Depp — this maverick has proven himself to be among the most fearless thespians out there — but ultimately, he’s not required to do more than mix profanity with profundity and allow himself to be subjected to lengthy sessions in the makeup artist’s chair. For all its attempts to startle us with its vulgarity, this underdeveloped movie never locates a defining method to its messiness; ultimately, it possesses all the shock value of a toddler yelling, “Poopy!” **1/2
Current Releases
BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN The secret behind this adaptation of Annie Proulx’s short story is that behind its convenient (and infuriating) designation as “the gay cowboy movie,” this is as universal as any cinematic love story of recent times. Scripters Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana and director Ang Lee have managed to make a movie that vibrates on two separate settings: It’s a story about the love between two men, yes, but it’s also a meditation on the strict societal rules that keep any two people — regardless of gender, race, class, religion, etc. — out of each other’s arms. In detailing the relationship between Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal), Brokeback Mountain is about longing and loneliness as much as it’s about love — indeed, loss and regret become tangible presences in the film. Gyllenhaal delivers a nicely modulated performance, but this is clearly Ledger’s show: He’s phenomenal as Ennis, and his character’s anguish causes our own hearts to break on his behalf. ***1/2
DAVE CHAPPELLE’S BLOCK PARTY It’s a behind-the-scenes documentary, a music concert and a stand-up act all rolled into one. Comedian Dave Chappelle heads to his Dayton, OH, hometown to hand out golden tickets (similar to those given out by “wee Willy Wonka,” as he calls him) to attend his block party in Brooklyn. Chappelle invites everyone from young black dudes to elderly white women to attend his shindig, which turns out to be a celebration of hip-hop music: Among those taking part in the musical mirth are Kanye West, Mos Def, Erykah Badu and the reunited Fugees. Dave Chappelle’s Block Party, not so much directed as observed by Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), is unique in the manner in which it salutes Afro-American culture and unity while at the same time exhibiting an exalted openness that makes it clear everyone’s invited to take part in the merriment. The comic material is spotty, but the sizzling concert performances are the primary attraction anyway. ***
EIGHT BELOW Based on a Japanese film that was itself inspired by a true story, Eight Below relates the tale of a scientific expedition in Antarctica and what happens when punishing weather forces its members to leave behind their eight sled dogs to cope with exhaustion, starvation and a particularly nasty leopard seal. The dogs are gorgeous and wonderfully expressive (no creepy Snow Dogs-style anthropomorphizing here, thank God), and as long as director Frank Marshall and debuting scripter Dave DiGilio focus on this part of the story, the movie succeeds in the grand tradition of past Disney live-action adventures. But the picture runs an unpardonable two hours (can little kids’ bladders hold out that long?), and its length is felt in the countless scenes centering on the human characters back in civilization. At 95 minutes, this would have been an out-and-out winner; maybe the DVD will include a function that will allow viewers to edit out the humans and leave only the remarkable canines. **1/2
FIREWALL If ever there existed a compelling argument as to why Steven Spielberg and Harrison Ford should not proceed with their long-marinating plan to make a fourth Indiana Jones movie, here it is in the form of Firewall. At 63, Ford is looking his age; by the time the Indy flick rolls, he’ll be more at ease cracking arthritic joints than cracking that whip. Here, his upstanding character is a computer wiz who must save his wife (Virginia Madsen) and kids from a Eurotrash bandit (Paul Bettany) blackmailing him into ripping off the bank at which he works. Joe Forte’s screenplay grows exceedingly ludicrous, and a wasted Madsen doesn’t even warrant an Anne Archer moment to call her own. As for Ford, the twinkle of mischievousness and sprinkle of levity that he brought to his most memorable films are missing here, replaced by a cranky fatigue that’s difficult to watch and impossible to enjoy. Indiana Jones 4 is a terrible idea, but might we suggest a remake of On Golden Pond as an alternate? **
FREEDOMLAND Two hard-hitting performances combine with palpable racial tensions in Freedomland, an adaptation of Richard Price’s novel that itself owes a debt to the real-life Susan Smith incident. Samuel L. Jackson stars as a detective assigned to question a woman (Julianne Moore) who claims a black man stole her car while her son was sleeping in the back seat. Moore’s performance is hard to take in its intensity, yet it’s true to the character and her circumstances — rarely has a film allowed so raw a demonstration of parental bereavement. Yet it’s Jackson who holds our attention throughout, making an indelible impression as a lawman whose loyalties are questioned by both his friends in the projects and his acquaintances on the force. Price’s bustling script and the actors provide enough drama to overcome the terrible direction by Joe Roth (Christmas With the Kranks), whose kamikaze style (swerving cameras, rapid edits, booming soundtrack) displays an inexplicable lack of confidence in his material. ***
MRS. HENDERSON PRESENTS When did one of cinema’s most accomplished actresses turn into one of its most boring? Except for her atypical (and smashing) performance in Iris, Judi Dench has been delivering the exact same performance dating back to 1997 — that of the frosty, tart-tongued Englishwoman who’s clearly smarter than everyone else in the room. She’s at it again in this predictable piffle about a wealthy widow who finances vaudeville revues staged with naked young women. The shows prove to be a raging success, but then World War II comes along to rain on everyone’s parade. Daffy humor makes way for maudlin drama (complete with requisite wartime speeches), but except for the sight of co-star Bob Hoskins in his own one-man rendition of The Full Monty, there’s nothing here to indicate that director Stephen Frears (Dirty Pretty Things) is doing anything but coasting. The blue-hairs will dig it, though. **
NANNY MCPHEE Reminiscent of the black comedies routinely made by Danny De Vito (most notably his delightful Matilda), Nanny McPhee finds director Kirk Jones and scripter-star Emma Thompson (adapting Christianna Brand’s “Nurse Matilda” books) similarly employing menacing situations, questionable comic material and oversized, often grotesque characters in an unorthodox attempt to arrive at a sentimental conclusion. Thompson, delivering a sharp performance under pounds of facial latex, plays the title character, a snaggletooth, wart-sprouting nursemaid who mysteriously shows up to help a widower (Colin Firth) contend with his seven monstrous children. Most of the screen time is spent on the kids, which is a shame, since Thompson’s character is by far the most interesting one on view. Nanny McPhee should play well with the small fry, though adults may be more bothered by the clumsy shifts in tone. **1/2
THE PINK PANTHER Despite his own comic credentials, Steve Martin is playing a dead man’s hand here. Peter Sellers’ particular brand of comic genius was evident in his recurring portrayal of bumbling Inspector Clouseau, and try as he might, Martin is never able to make the role his own. Were the movie surrounding him a top-flight comedy, it might be easier to let him slide, but this picture is as clumsy as its leading figure, an uncomfortable attempt to tap into the essence of the classic Panther films while updating it for modern audiences who might not know Inspector Clouseau from Inspector Javert. There are a few bright moments, but for the most part, the gags aren’t particularly fresh, mildly amusing bits are repeated until they lose every ounce of appeal, and Martin unwisely softens the character’s hard edges. *1/2
THE THREE BURIALS OF MELQUIADES ESTRADA / THE WHITE COUNTESS / THE WORLD’S FASTEST INDIAN Call them the Oscar also-rans. Every December, a handful of long-shot hopefuls are released in New York and LA hoping to charge full-steam into the awards season; instead, they end up not even getting out of the gate. In The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, Tommy Lee Jones (who also directed and produced) plays a cowboy who seeks a peculiar form of retribution from the border patrolman (Barry Pepper) who killed his Mexican buddy (Julio Cedillo). The White Countess, meanwhile, stars Ralph Fiennes as a blind American diplomat in 1930s Shanghai who forms a bond with a Russian countess (Natasha Richardson) reduced to working as a prostitute to feed her family. And The World’s Fastest Indian is yet another uplifting movie inspired by a true incident — in this case, the story of an old codger (Anthony Hopkins) who travels from New Zealand to Utah to try to break the motorcycle racing record for speed. All three movies have their strong points (most notably the caliber of the acting), yet without anything to set them apart during the year-end glut, it’s easy to see why they were passed over for gold statue consideration. All three films: **1/2
TRANSAMERICA Felicity Huffman, best known as one of TV’s Desperate Housewives, inhabits the type of role that seems to automatically win trophies. But this is no mere parlor trick of a performance: If anything, Huffman approaches her role of Bree, a transsexual ready to make that transition from “he” to “she,” in a surprisingly understated fashion, playing up the character’s conservative qualities while ignoring potentially flamboyant elements. Bree’s journey begins just prior to her operation, when she learns that her one tryst with a woman 17 years earlier has left her with a son, a street hustler named Toby (Kevin Zegers). Unable to reveal to Toby her true identity, she pretends to be a church lady involved in charitable activities, which in this case means allowing the boy to travel with her cross-country to get back to LA. Transamerica is ultimately a road movie as much as it’s a character study, and it proves to be satisfying on both fronts. ***
OPENS FRIDAY, MARCH 10:
FAILURE TO LAUNCH: Matthew McConaughey, Sarah Jessica Parker.
THE HILLS HAVE EYES: Aaron Stanford, Kathleen Quinlan.
THE LIBERTINE: Johnny Depp, Samantha Morton.
THE SHAGGY DOG: Tim Allen, Kristin Davis.
This article appears in Mar 8-14, 2006.
